


No Chance and No Choice

by imagineagreatadventure



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x03 spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Character Deaths Mentioned, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, References to book canon, Survivor Guilt, post 8x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 15:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/pseuds/imagineagreatadventure
Summary: Perhaps if she had been like a maiden in the songs she would have dared to kiss Jaime now -- perhaps if she hadn’t been gasping for breath, too afraid to even look at her comrade-in-arms, she would havedaredbut she could not.





	No Chance and No Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: I barely edited this so I apologize in advance!!

Once, in a dream, Brienne stepped out to fight seven.

Seven gods attempted to slay her but she dodged their steel, dodged their bites, and did not flinch when the time came to kill.

Once, _long ago,_ she wanted to flinch while killing a man but remembered Ser Goodwin’s words. _I did not flinch then._ And she did not flinch now, slicing at death, wights with blue eyes, a little girl she once admired who now reached for Brienne’s arm. Oathkeeper was the only thing between her own death and she vowed not to die.

She did not even turn her head to glance at Jaime, somehow sensing when he was in danger before he could cry out. Pod was beside Jaime and she could only pray he survived as well. Their backs were against the wall and the end was near but they could not give up. They could not die here. They had no chance and no choice but to survive. They had to fight for the living, had to fight for Sansa, for Arya, for Jon, for Tyrion, for Bran, for Tormund, for Ser Davos, for the Dragon Queen and her people… they had to fight for the dead as well for Lady Catelyn would _never_ forgive Brienne if she let her daughters die now after they had survived so much. For Lady Lyanna who Brienne slew again, trying not to remember the little girl standing up and demanding the right to fight for the women of the north.

Jaime’s breath was rattling and she knew they were near the end. A dragon had landed and Brienne could not even wonder at it -- she could only stare death in the face and scream.

_No chance and no choice._

And then -- they fell. The wights, the dragon -- they were done.

Jaime was alive.

Podrick was alive.

And she was alive.

Perhaps if she had been like a maiden in the songs she would have dared to kiss Jaime now -- perhaps if she hadn’t been gasping for breath, too afraid to even look at her comrade-in-arms, she would have _dared_ but she could not.

There were no celebratory yells, only the _cold, still shock_ of being alive. Brienne saw Lord Jon collapse and so went to Lady Sansa’s brother quickly, waving Jaime and Pod along to help. Jaime followed but Pod did not -- he went to his knees and wept instead.

Brienne could hear others weeping as well and wished she could stop running -- wished she could crawl into Jaime’s arms and weep the way she imagined a woman in songs would -- but she did not have that sort of womanly courage. Catelyn Stark floated in front of her eyes as she helped Jon Snow up, grabbing his left arm while Jaime grabbed his right.

Lady Sansa floated out of the crypt, her face whiter than the snow and Brienne wondered what her lady had seen below. Had the dead come alive there? Jon coughed as they held him up, as his sister embraced him with tears in her eyes: “Bran? Arya?” Lady Sansa asked and Lord Jon only shuddered.

“The Godswood,” Sansa pleaded, and Brienne handed Jon Snow’s arm to his sister and let them sink into the ground together, running to the Godswood as fast as she could. A throbbing pain was radiating off her right leg but she could not pay it any mind, not when Lady Catelyn’s children were still in danger.

Jaime followed her without a word -- he had been her shadow during the battle... and she had been his. She had no time to wonder at it -- no time to wonder how he heard her screams and saved her as he did several times before years and _years_ ago, no time to wonder how she had heard _his_ from leagues away, no time to wonder how they fought the wights together, flowing like dance partners almost as if the Seven Gods themselves were orchestrating their movements.

Theon’s body lay in the snow and Brienne looked at it once with sadness, trying not to remember the boy who dedicated himself to Sansa. The boy who had saved Sansa when she could not. She would weep later. _Later._

Arya was not far from Theon’s body, sitting in the snow, her head bowed. Bran was clutching his sister’s hands, his mask of a face revealing a crack of relief, a crack of happiness. Brienne spoke, her voice aching as she did, “Your sister, your brother… they are alive and in the courtyard.”

Arya glanced back once and then was gone so quickly that Brienne wondered if she had imagined the scene entirely. Jaime went to Bran and spoke quietly after the girl had left -- Brienne could almost not hear him. “There is an afterwards,” Jaime said, his voice as warm as the sun.

Lord Bran only smiled.

* * *

They all gathered in the throne room, once they convinced Sandor Clegane that they were human beings and not the walking dead. The Dragon Queen did not join them -- she gathered her people and went into her own rooms.

Curiously, Lord Tyrion did not join her. He sat beside Jaime, drinking out of a flagon, worried glances flying towards Lady Sansa, who held Arya’s hand in her right hand and Bran’s in her left.

Jon Snow opened his mouth to speak but did not seem capable yet. He wiped a hand across his brow, which was stained dark from blood and dirt. “We have cleaned some rooms out. Bunk up where you can and sleep... _if you can_. The maester is helping the injured based on who is hurt worse -- if it can wait until morning…” The once king sighed.

Lady Sansa spoke for her bastard brother. “We will burn the dead in the morning.” Her eyes were red. Lord Theon’s death struck her truly. Arya squeezed her sister’s hand and Lady Sansa held her head up higher. “Are there any questions?” No one had the energy to say a word. Tears were still streaming down Podrick’s face -- Brienne saw Tyrion hand her squire his flagon. Brienne almost smiled but could not muster it.

Without any questions, there was no reason for any of them to be there -- Lady Sansa gave instructions on what rooms and hallways were available for rest, but some warriors collapsed right there in the throne room.

Tormund was one of them -- the wildling leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and snored as soon as Lady Sansa stopped speaking. It was loud and terrible. Jaime chuckled beside her and then coughed to hide it. Something in Brienne broke upon Jaime’s chuckle and she began to laugh.

Laugh in a way she had not done in years -- she could not remember the last time she had laughed. Was it when Renly told her a jape? Was it when her father’s mistress imitated Lord Selwyn so precisely that Brienne giggled?

She could not see anyone’s faces -- her eyes too filled with tears as her knees buckled underneath. Jaime’s left hand grabbed her arm and pulled her. The laughter erupted from her, shattered her and she could hear Lady Sansa go to Jaime and say: “Take her to my chambers, she needs rest.”

Brienne could not hear Jaime’s response -- she could only feel herself pulled into the hall -- pulled away from the crowd. Were they laughing as well -- or was that terrible noise only her?

“Ser Brienne,” Jaime said, pressing his thumb into her arm. She choked on a laugh. Her a knight? A commander? Weren’t all of her men dead? What good was she? “Come along.”

The laughter was beginning to pain her -- there was no air, only spasms erupting along her stomach muscles. Jaime pushed her into Lady Sansa’s chambers (ignoring the pile of wights and bodies outside the door) and Brienne almost sat on the floor in relief, but Jaime didn’t let her. He pushed her into a wooden chair and kneeled beside her.

The laughter finally died on her lips, the snorting, choking laughter died just as so many others did. “I failed them,” Brienne said when she could finally speak.

“No,” Jaime said. “You survived. The Stark children are alive. Podrick is alive.” He paused and then grabbed her hand. _“I am alive.”_

Brienne shook him off and left the chair, the exhaustion shaking off as she remembered the battle. She could not rest. Although she wanted to, “What are we to do now?”

She could not see Jaime but heard him get up as well. His voice sounded weary. “We will live.”

Brienne didn’t know what that meant. “What will you do now, I mean?”

The edges of sunlight were reaching through the room -- they had made it to dawn. She turned around to face Jaime and could spot exhaustion in his green eyes that were rimmed with red. Had he cried yet? “I will serve you,” he vowed.

Brienne would have laughed if ten years of repressed laughter had not erupted from her moments before. Instead, she stared at Jaime’s beautiful face, her limbs growing heavy. She didn’t know what to say.

His gaze was full of worry. “You need rest, my lady.”

“I thought I was a Ser.” Did she sound drunk? She had never been drunk before but she imagined this is what it felt like -- as if the world was melting on top of your head. She shook her head, hoping the feeling would dissipate but it only grew.

Jaime smiled and she suddenly remembered his smile after he knighted her. _Could he love me?_ “Ser, then,” he said.

Brienne had forced the thoughts of Jaime loving her -- and her loving Jaime -- deep into the recesses of her consciousness. She could not reconcile the thought of the man who loved the most beautiful woman in the world -- his sister -- loving her, the great Beast. _Brienne the Beauty._ Nor could she let herself fret about it when she served a family his family nearly destroyed. Not until yesterday. Not until he came to the North and swore to serve under her. Vowed to fight by her side.

And he did, she remembered, startled by how dark his eyes were now. _He saved me as I saved him. He knighted me, armored me, gave me a sword, and told me to save his enemies in order for us to keep our vows._ Hadn’t she said that to Lady Sansa?

And now Lady Sansa trusted Jaime with Brienne in her very own chambers. Trusted a Lannister because Brienne told her to.

“We are alive,” Jaime said, emptying the silence. He drew closer to Brienne -- she let him, too exhausted to move aside -- and suddenly his hand was on her forearm, rubbing circles into the muscle. His voice was filled with wonder, “You saved me.”

Her mouth was dry. She could barely feel her tongue. The deaths -- she could still see their faces when she looked at Jaime and so helplessly, in a voice that she didn’t know she possessed, she asked him: “Could you hold me?”

“I could.” He paused and looked into her eyes. She could not read his expression. “I’m strong enough.”

She inhaled sharply, remembering what he said years ago, and he stepped forward, his left hand not letting go of her forearm. His fingers burned through the cloth. His gaze did not leave her and, as she shuddered, he wrapped her in his arms and then -- only then -- did he did let go of her arm to touch her back.

The tears were sharp and silent -- and Jaime said nothing, only holding her through the shaking, kissing her forehead, as the silent tears grew as fearsome and loud as her battle cry. “Jaime,” she found herself saying, repeating herself the way a madwoman would. _Am I going mad?_ “Jaime, Jaime, _Jaime_ , Jaime…”

He kissed her forehead again and let her go, his eyes steady. His left hand shook as he removed his golden hand, throwing it on the ground as if it meant nothing. “Brienne,” he said -- only once.

No Sers, no lady -- just Brienne.

It was that soft caressing of her name that made her tears die away, collapse into the air just as the wights did. Jaime stared at her and she stared back. She did not know who took the next step but suddenly his lips were on hers and she gasped.

_Her first kiss._

The taste of iron melted on her tongue. She shuddered again, her body reeling from the tears and the death and the kiss, and Jaime released her, his hand wiping away the blood and dirt on her face. “Come, you need a bath.”

“So do you,” she managed to say and his smile was quiet.

Brienne was unused to this form of Jaime Lannister -- he was never silent when he was her prisoner, nor when they were both Roose Bolton’s. He was not silent in King’s Landing, and even at Riverrun, he teased her as she tried to be sincere and honest. His silent and genuine gaze of affection struck her in her heart more than his kiss.

“My lady,” he said, turning her around. A tub was filled with water in the adjoining room and Brienne wondered at it. “Lady Sansa ordered it for you,” Jaime answered. He could read her mind, she knew. Perhaps she could read his.

And suddenly she knew he wanted her.

Perhaps she should have been like every other maiden, shy about undressing in front of a man. But she had seen Jaime at his worst and he had seen her at hers -- and he had seen her naked at Harrenhal. She did not blush as he helped her remove her clothes and placed Oathkeeper on a chair (her armor had been removed earlier by Pod before they went to the throne room). “Come,” Jaime ordered, helping her as best as he could with one hand and soon she sank into the tub.

Jaime’s eyes were still clouded with worry but he dipped a cloth and wiped her face. As she adjusted to the cool bathwater she began to cry again and Jaime let her -- caressing her face, her arms, her shoulders with the cloth. “Shall I help with your back?” he asked and her mind went back to the bath in Harrenhal.

Her tears turned into another choked laugh.

On a morning where they had not been nearly defeated by the dead Brienne imagined that Jaime would have teased her about her snorting and her unruly laughter but today she knew she only unnerved him. “Brienne,” he said and she turned to him.

He kissed her again so gently it felt like one of her dreams and then let her go. “Let us clean you up.”

She let him lift her arms, her legs, and helped as best she could, realizing quite early on that she could barely move. Bruises bloomed on her legs and arms and chest and Jaime washed her with a mother’s care. “I must help you as well,” she said once he was nearly finished.

He raised an eyebrow. “Rest first, ser.”

She would have argued if she had the strength but she had nothing like strength left. “I cannot sleep in Lady Sansa’s bed,” she said.

“She ordered it and I do not dare to disobey her. Do you?”

Brienne stared at the grey water. He knew her answer.

Minutes later she found herself naked under the covers, Jaime bundling her up, wrapping her in the fur blanket. “I will be quick,” he said.

“You are not joining me here,” she said, startled.

Jaime laughed. It was a true laugh, something Brienne had thought she’d never see again. “I would never dare to sleep in Ned Stark’s old chambers. No, my lady, _my ser_ ,” he smiled again, although this time it was tinged with tragedy, “I will be back to check on you. Sleep.”

She wanted to argue -- wanted to say so many things that meant I love you in the only way she knew how to express it -- but he left in haste, leaving her alone in Lady Sansa’s bedchamber, the cold seeping into her bones. The fur coverlet kept her warm and soon Brienne found herself asleep and dreaming of wights with green eyes.

* * *

 Jaime was beside her when she awoke. He was clean although his clothes were not and fast asleep in a chair. Brienne would have taken a moment to admire how well he looked even after fighting the dead if she had not seen Lady Sansa’s shadow cross the room.

“Brienne!” the Lady of Winterfell cried out and Jaime awoke. “You’re all right. I was worried.”

Jaime reached over and grabbed Brienne’s hand. Lady Sansa’s eyebrow raised but she kept speaking. “Queen Daenerys has declared all the bodies to be burnt and then we will be…”

“Facing my sister,” Jaime said, not looking at Sansa. His gaze was latched on Brienne’s face. “If you grant me permission to miss that meeting, my lady, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

Brienne tore her own gaze away from Jaime’s face to see Sansa’s pinched expression. She would have to reprimand Jaime later -- Lady Sansa had obviously not slept yet and did not deserve his japes. “My lady, do you need me to attend?” she asked Sansa.

Sansa looked down at Jaime’s fingers holding Brienne’s own and shook her head. “No, Ser Brienne --” Brienne started at that and then looked over at Jaime who smiled and squeezed her hand, “-- you should rest. Your own chambers are ready again when you can move.”

“I can do so now, my lady.” Brienne was worried for Sansa. The girl needed to sleep.

Modesty had been left behind in Harrenhal and so Jaime handed Brienne clothes -- clean clothes (how he managed it, Brienne didn’t want to know) right in front of her lady who only frowned ( _just like Lady Catelyn_ ), placed Oathkeeper in her hands, and marched her out of Lady Sansa’s chambers and guided her, wordlessly, into her own.

It was greyer than she remembered and smelled like death. She felt sick. “Where is Pod?” she asked Jaime as she placed Oathkeeper on a chest by her bed.

“With my brother. Tyrion has been watching over him.” Jaime’s green eyes raked over her and she struggled with her next words.

“Like you cared for me?” she demanded although she suspected it came out softer than she’d like. “Who is taking care of you?”

Jaime’s eyes grew wide and he smiled. “You, of course.”

Brienne turned away, wishing she could kick him. But instead, she said nothing, staring at her bed. “You should sleep now,” she said. “It’s your turn.”

“I already have,” he said, his voice low. “Beside you.”

Brienne could feel the flush crawling up her neck and was grateful she was not facing him. He kissed her, she remembered, thinking it had been a dream when she first awoke, but now she sensed it on her lips. _He had kissed her._

“Why did you do that?” she asked, turning back to him.

He arched a brow. “I had to make sure you were all right. I was not going to let you sleep by yourself.”

_Why?_

Apparently, she voiced the thought out loud. “You were in shock,” he said. “It’s common. I…” he swallowed. “Brienne, I would have also been weeping if it had not been for you. I could not weep when you were still alive -- especially not when you needed _me._ ” He sounded awestruck.

 _Could he truly love me?_ She did not dare to ask him. And yet… “Why did you kiss me, Ser Jaime?”

He swallowed and she watched his throat, feeling itchy and discontented. “Is it Ser Jaime now?” he said, instead of answering. 

“Please,” she said and, to her shame, the word came out as begging.

“Because I needed to,” Jaime said. He was so far away from her. So close to the door. He could run if he wanted but he stayed put, gazing at her with such devotion she wanted to scream. No one had ever looked at her like that -- not even Tormund who made the oddest advances (making it very clear he wanted her even when she could not entertain the thought). “Because you needed me…” he stopped, turning red.

It reminded her of when they spoke on the grounds. Before the dead had come. “Jaime,” she said and stopped herself, unsure of what she wanted.

Jaime spoke then, his eyes meeting hers. “You kissed me back, Brienne.” She opened her mouth and said nothing. He continued to speak, his gaze leaving her eyes and turning toward her lips. “Was it the shock?”

“No,” she said, wishing it had been. She could not love Jaime Lannister. He could not love her.

His eyes met hers again and she saw the pain within. “I dreamed of you,” he said and she almost began to cry again, feeling foolish.

“When?” she asked instead, determined not to cry.

His lips quirked. “I believe every night since the baths at Harrenhal.”

Brienne did not know what to do so instead she stared at him, wondering at the jape.

“Brienne,” he said, so soft she almost did not hear him. “I would not lie to you. I do not believe I am capable of it.” He paused. “Not with you.”

She remembered how he knighted her and then reached for Oathkeeper. It was not at her side, she realized, and then looked towards Jaime. " _It will always be yours_ ," he once said, his eyes almost as soft as they were now. With a shudder, she launched herself at him.

Jaime caught her in his arms and kissed her cheek, her eyelids, her mouth, her nose, her neck. “I love you,” he said into her ear with such fierceness it almost made Brienne back away. _Women’s courage,_  she thought and then whispered:

“I love you as well.”

He smiled and kissed her, his tongue dancing on her bottom lip, and then let her go, his eyes blazing and tired. “We made it to the afterward.” Brienne nodded and, daring herself, pressed her lips against his. He allowed her to and she could feel his smile.

“I thought I was going to die without telling you,” he said, pulling her away. His eyes were serious. “I did not want to hurt you more so I dared not say it. But now,” he smiled again, “we’re alive.”

“We could still die,” she said, remembering his sister. She knew -- Cersei knew Brienne loved Jaime. What would she do to her?

Brienne didn’t care. “We could,” he agreed, his smile ebbing. “But we fought against the dead and lived. Isn’t that worth telling the truth?” he said, another smile greeting her. The kind he used to give her as they traveled the Riverlands. She closed her eyes and thought of the dead. How they might have died and joined the enemy’s army if it had not been for Lady Arya.

She opened them and stared into Jaime’s, who looked at her with such wonder that Brienne almost laughed. How could she not see his love? How could she ignore it so? “Perhaps we should have said it sooner,” she whispered.

He kissed her brow. “Or perhaps we said it at the perfect time,” he said, his voice dark and deep. Goosebumps raised along her arms -- for reasons quite unrelated to the chilly air and, from far away, she could hear a song erupting from the drunken survivors. _Podrick?_

“We should help,” she said. “With what’s left. Lady Sansa will need help -- especially now that she is resting. And I should check on Lady Arya… and Podrick and the Queen and Lord Bran --”

He kissed her, a small laugh escaping him. She pushed back against his lips until his laugh turned into a sigh. “I agree,” he said, his eyes dark. “There is still much for the living to do and I intend to do... _all of it._ ”

Brienne flushed and he smiled at her, although it was dark and tired. “Let us go help the living.”

“And let the dead rest,” she murmured. Jaime grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“As you say. . . my lady knight.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while JxB fam!!! I missed these guys and I can't believe how blessed we've been this season -- I keep expecting our luck to run out but hopefully we will at least see them confess their love. I need it, you need it, they REALLY REALLY need it. After the hell they've gone through I hope they get some happiness.


End file.
